


The Betrayer's Downfall

by Apocalypse_the_Abysswalker



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Captivity, Character Death, Death, Depression, Dubious Consent, Emotional, Emotions, Eventual Smut, Explicit Language, Explicit Self-Harm, Explicit Sexual Content, Fear, Gay Sex, Hurt, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Character Undeath, Masochism, Mind Control, Past Rape/Non-con, Porn, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sad, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Shame, Smut, Suicidal Thoughts, Undead, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unrequited Love (Mentioned), Uselessness, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Apocalypse_the_Abysswalker/pseuds/Apocalypse_the_Abysswalker
Summary: Alternative story of what happens after the Arthas vs. Illidan fight in Northrend. In this AU, Kael won’t rescue Illidan after the fight and bring him to the Black Temple; instead, Illidan ends up in Icecrown, imprisoned.
Relationships: Arthas Menethil/Illidan Stormrage
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a lot of disturbing themes described in detail, such as violence, non-con, self-harm, death. Read the tags before reading the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is an introduction to the story. Things get more interesting from chapter 2.

The snow caressed Illidan’s skin as Arthas’ cold voice stabbed his heart.

“You lost.”

These two simple words shattered Illidan’s world. Well, not the words, but the fact that it happened.

The Northrend sun was cold and blinding as he laid on the ground, defeated.

 _This is the end,_ Illidan thought.

His heart was devoid of hope.

 _Just kill me, and end my shame,_ he thought. He knows he lost; he was struck down by the runeblade that steals souls, and there’s no way he could ever survive that. There’s nobody that could save him. The snow he lies on is cold, cold like his heart, and all he wishes for isn’t salvation, it’s just a swift end.

“What are you waiting for,” he growls, “finish this.” He isn’t begging, he won’t ever be, but lying on the cold snow defeated feels terrible. The sword cut deep into his chest, but he barely even feels that. The only thing that hurts is his pride. And it hurts enough to make him long for the empty darkness they call death.

“Oh, do dream of the sweet embrace of death,” says Arthas, grinning wickedly. Illidan does not like the sight of it at all.

Weak from the wound as he is, he’s unable to resist when Arthas picks him up and caries him away in his arms.

Oh, the shame. Oh, the humiliation.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asks. But gets no reply.

He can only imagine the horrible things that await him as the Lich King’s prisoner.

He wakes up in a cold cell. His memories are blurry, but he does remember the shame of being defeated. Why isn’t he dead? He can’t understand it.

The shame consumes him. He never felt so useless in his life. Or maybe he did, when he saw the love of his life be taken away from him by his own brother. But this is a different kind of uselessness. He sacrificed so much for the powers he has. Yet, they meant nothing in the end. Not against Arthas.

He shivers, thinking about the guy. He’s scary, and Illidan did see a lot of fucked up shit in his life, but this _king_ and the look in his eyes makes him shiver.

It’s not exactly fear. He has looked death itself into the eyes and still wasn’t afraid. But there is a feeling of unease. Seeing something so unnatural, defying laws of nature, makes him want to throw up. _Undeath. A Lich King. King of undeads. Stealing someone’s free will._ It all makes him disgusted.

He hopes he will just die in this cell and won’t have to see that monster again.

Oh, how wrong is he.

He gets visited not by one of his minions but by the filthy _king_ himself.

“Oh, how are you feeling, rotting and falling apart like that?” Illidan asks, mockingly. He honestly just hopes to get killed quickly. Arthas is giving him the creeps.

“I am not rotting,” is the reply. Calm and collected.

“What is the meaning of this?” Illidan asks again.

“You will see soon enough,” replies Arthas.

It’s not one least assuring.

“It is an honorable thing, to end your foe’s suffering once you have defeated him. I ask again. What is the meaning of this?” Illidan asks.

“To break you,” says the Lich King.

Illidan laughs. “Well, shame on you. I had already been broken. There is nothing you can do that hasn’t happened to me already. Give it up and end my suffering,” says the demon hunter. There is quite some pain in his voice, but Arthas thinks he can make him suffer even more. So much suffering is delicious to him. It brings pleasure to his dull, boring days.

Oh, how much fun he is going to have with this poor half-demon.

Illidan’s wrists are chained together, so he has very little ways of attacking Arthas. He tries anyway. He calls to fel energies that course through his veins, and conjures a bolt of fel energy, which he then sends in Arthas’ direction. Arthas doesn’t lift a finger, yet some barrier is created, making the bolt bounce away, and fizzle and disappear.

_Oh, the feeling of being absolutely useless. Will it ever go away?_

His ankles are tied together too. In his ten thousand years of imprisonment he could at least walk across his cell. This feels far more humiliating.

Plated boot kicks his chest, and he falls down onto his back, and the King steps on him. His ribs get crushed and it’s difficult to breathe. Thankfully, no bones seem to be broken yet. He wonders why.

“Submit to me,” says the Lich King.

Illidan laughs and spits at the boot that’s crushing him. He will never submit to such a scum.

Then Illidan’s curling up into a ball as Arthas repeatedly kicks him. It hurts, but not too badly. His demonic body can take much more. The only thing that is damaged is his pride that gets crushed again.

Arthas grabs his hair and lifts his head to face him. Illidan doesn’t look away and stares into those cold eyes. He’s glad that his fiery orbs made of felfire are not showing any emotions.

“You will serve me,” states Arthas.

“Never,” hisses Illidan.

Arthas then lets go of Illidan’s hair and walks away without so much as a word.


	2. Chapter 2

Illidan is alone in the darkness for days that feel like weeks.

He’s cold. He’s hungry.

At least he’s not feeling lonely. He is used to spending prolonged periods of time alone.

He thinks once more about his ten thousand years long imprisonment and the things that were done to him there.

This former human prince can surely not think of anything worse to do to him.

He feels useless. His pride hurts. He’s ashamed of himself.

His claws sink into his chest. Into the deep cut from the sword. The pain almost makes him faint.

It doesn’t help, he feels even worse.

Claws from his right hand sink into his left forearm.

There’s blood, and a lot of it, and it smells and looks like green fel.

He knows he won’t die; his demonic body regenerates too quickly.

Feeling abandoned by the world, he sinks his claws deeper anyway. He slashes his wrists. Closes his eyes. Takes solace in the pain that consumes him.

Thinks about all the messed-up things that were ever done to him. This new imprisonment is really just a drop of water in an ocean of pain.

He’s glad that he can’t cry with his burning eyes, he couldn’t hold back tears if he had any left to cry.

His wounds heal, but he creates more, sinking his claws deep into his flesh, as his mind is sinking down into a spiral of despair.

He senses someone’s presence at the door of his cell.

“Go away,” he says without looking who it is.

It’s once again the King himself.

“I’ve brought food,” he says.

“I’m not hungry,” Illidan replies.

Arthas eyes the damage Illidan did to himself. He swallows back any witty remarks and thinks.

_So, that’s how much they broke him?_

“Go away,” Illidan says again. There’s a desperate edge to his voice. He’s one step away from falling into the abyss of darkness and despair.

 _He’s known only pain in his life… So the only way I can break him is with kindness_ , thinks Arthas.

Arthas enters the cell, steps uncomfortably close to Illidan, and kneels down next to him. Before Illidan has the chance of thinking about what’s happening, Arthas leans closer, and kisses Illidan gently. His tongue presses against Illidan’s lips. Illidan’s shivering, and he feels like he’s falling, his whole world is spinning around.

Arthas takes off his plate glove and cups Illidan’s cheek. Illidan lets him deepen the kiss, and his heart is fluttering, he’s losing himself. He does not want this, not with his sworn enemy. But nobody has ever touched him this gently.

He thinks about Tyrande.

Their tongues intertwine. Arthas tastes like death. Illidan tastes like fel. They both like it anyway.

Illidan can’t catch his breath. Arthas presses his body against the demon hunter. Takes hold of his hands, eyes the damage from close. The deep scratches are almost healed already. The blood’s still there though, and he proceeds to lick it and kiss the cuts. Illidan shivers. It’s too much.

_“Why,”_ he asks quietly.

“I will make you mine,” says Arthas. “By any means necessary.”

Illidan sighs, looks away.

“Get on with it then.” His voice is empty. So would be his gaze if he had normal eyes.

Illidan does not fight back when his legs get unchained and Arthas moves between them. He’s weakened by hunger, and imprisonment, and the still unhealed slash across his chest from Frostmourne, and as he is now, he stands no chance against this King of the Dead. There’s no point in fighting.

He wants to fight anyway. But he can’t move, can’t do anything.

Arthas isn’t the first one to do this to him, but he's by far the gentlest about it. 

The first time was the worst. Then, it became the matter of pretending to leave his own body, and hiding in a mental place far away.

“Don’t,” he says quietly.

“But you like this,” says Arthas.

It’s true that his body responds to the kind touches.

He wants to run away. He wants to fight. _Anything, please, anything but this,_ he thinks.

He feels paralyzed.

Arthas is relentless. He slowly undresses both of them. It takes some time, to remove all parts of the plate armor.

While undressing, he’s still touching and kissing Illidan. He’s gently biting and sucking on his collarbone. Illidan _moans_.

His body wants more. Needs more, desperately. _He wants to die._

“Not like this,” he whispers, and he can’t take so much tenderness, he’s used to being hit hard and to be cut and bruised and bloodied, but not this.

“ _Please_ , _Arthas_ ,” he begs, but he’s not sure for what. For more? For this to stop?

“Shh,” Arthas silences him and kisses him deeply once more.

They are laying naked on the cold floor. Like fire and ice. Their touches hurt a little to each of them. Illidan’s hands burn Arthas, just like Arthas’ touches are colder than ice on Illidan’s skin.

“Tell me you want me,” says Arthas as he wraps his fingers around Illidan’s dick. It’s rock hard.

 _“Oh god, no please, stop it, I can’t, don’t,”_ begs Illidan.

It takes a few expert strokes on his length for his words to change.

“Oh, fuck, Arthas, _Arthas_ ,” Illidan moans.

Arthas puts a few fingers to Illidan’s mouth. Illidan sucks at them, makes them wet and slippery, and soon enough he feels them pressing against his ass.

At least he gets to be prepared.

Two fingers enter him at once, spreading him open.

He moans like a whore. The slight pain is only enhancing his pleasure.

He _does_ hate himself for this.

In years when he knew only pain and darkness, he learned to embrace the pain, to make it his friend. It unravels him.

He needs more.

“ _Please_ Arthas,” he says, “I want you, I need you, just fuck me already.”

It is consent. He will hate himself for it later, but he needs this now. He can pretend. Fool his body and mind. Pretend there’s love and connection. He can pretend this isn’t his damn sworn enemy.

Arthas is willing to play his part. His cold hands are gentle on Illidan’s searing skin. He positions himself, leans closer, and then presses inside while kissing Illidan deeply.

His hard erection is long and thick. He goes deeper and deeper, and Illidan cries out. He wasn’t prepared for something so big. It hurts. But it hurts just _right._

“More,” he moans.

Arthas withdraws a bit, and then forces his way in even deeper.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” moans Arthas, unable to hold back. “I want to hurt you so bad,” Arthas whispers.

“Just fucking destroy me,” moans Illidan. He doesn’t care what happens to him anymore.

Arthas fucks him hard and mercilessly, and bites him again. The bites start at Illidan’s chest around the healing cut, and move to his neck. He’s tempted to bite hard enough that there will be chunks of flesh in his mouth for him to swallow, but he fights back the urge, and remembers that his goal is to make Illidan enjoy it.

He bites down hard enough only to draw blood from the demon hunter’s shoulder, and he licks the blood hungrily. He does not mind the strange taste of fel.

 _“Illidan,”_ he moans. _“I’m close.”_ He wraps his fingers around Illidan’s length once more, and strokes his dick fast. “Come for me Illidan. Be mine,” he beckons.

“Tell me you love me,” says Illidan.

“I love you Illidan,” lies Arthas. “Now come for me,” he repeats.

“Fuck, I hate you, I’m fucking coming,” grunts Illidan as he comes like never before, it leaves his mind empty and in pure bliss for many seconds as fel-colored come splatters all over his stomach.

It brings Arthas over the edge too, and he comes inside Illidan, moaning Illidan’s name and claiming his body from the inside.

He collapses down and lies on Illidan for a few moments.

Illidan recovers slowly, his uncomfortable thoughts flooding his mind again. 

_How, why, what is this_ , he thinks, confused. It all escalated really quickly, too quickly for him to process.

“You will obey me. You are mine. I can do what I want with you,” states Arthas.

“Never,” Illidan says, but he has nothing left to fight for, his pride is shattered, his soul feels broken, what’s the point of resisting?

They kiss again.

And later, when they dress, Illidan isn’t left alone, not anymore. He’s taken away from the filthy cell, up above, into the heart of Icecrown.


	3. Chapter 3

He doesn’t try to run away. There are thousands of Scourge’s soldiers all around the place, and running will be suicide, he won’t get far.

On the other hand, maybe that would be the better option.

He gets a room for himself. Gets some gear. He’s told that he will be sent on a mission. Like one of the death knights. Is this how low he sunk?

 _I have to do all I can to survive,_ he thinks.

 _What’s the point, I’d rather be dead anyway,_ he also thinks.

 _Pretend to be obedient. As soon as you leave this godforsaken place on a mission, run away._ That’s his plan.

 _How silly. You have nowhere to do to, no home,_ says the quiet voice in the back of his head.

He fights the invasive thoughts with more deep slashes across his forearms.

It doesn’t silence the thoughts anyway.

He curls up on his bed, shaking. He’s at his limit.

There’s someone at his door. “Go away!” he shouts. His voice is shaking.

It’s Arthas again. He has his sword with him this time.

“Oh, are you here to finish this?” asks Illidan maybe a bit too eagerly.

Arthas stays silent. Moves closer. Looks at the fresh cuts.

“You’re such a mess, so eager to die.” he states.

“You don’t say,” Illidan replies, not amused.

“I have a gift for you,” says Arthas. The cold voice makes Illidan shiver.

“No, thanks,” he replies.

“I’m afraid ‘NO’ is not an option,” says Arthas. “Be a good boy and don’t resist, and save us the trouble of dragging you to a torture chamber and restraining you.”

Illidan is terrified. What the fuck is Arthas talking about?

“What are you…?” He asks, unable to finish the question. He feels paralyzed by fear. He’s never been so afraid in his life. Arthas picks up his sword.

“NO,” Illidan screams.

“You are not doing what I think you are right?” Illidan asks, moving to the corner of his room, terrified.

“If this doesn’t work out, you die. If it works, you get to live forever,” Arthas explains.

“Are you crazy? I will obey you, just don’t do this to me,” and then he adds, “ _please Arthas_ , after what we did,” and Arthas laughs coldly- like that meant anything for either of them.

“Shh,” Arthas says. Moves closer. There’s nowhere left to run, Illidan is cornered.

Frostmourne points to Illidan’s heart, resting on his skin for a few moments.

 _“You monster,”_ Illidan says, as he grabs the sword with his bare hands, trying to pry it away. It doesn’t move an inch while his fingers get cut all the way to bone in the process.

“You will pay for this,” he growls and bares his fangs.

Arthas pays his words no attention as he grips the handle, and the rune blade sinks into Illidan’s chest. It’s cold. It hurts, and not only his body. He stares at the sword that stabbed all the way into him. He spits out blood. There are dark energies swirling around the sword. The sword binds his soul into chains, in a way that it never should be bound. It’s wrong and it’s the worst feeling Illidan ever experienced. His vision is darkening. He prays to never wake up, as his vision fades, and he dies.

“Rise, my champion,” says Arthas. The sword gets withdrawn slowly. There’s so much blood everywhere. It’s not possible to survive something like this. He’s not alive anymore. But also, not quite dead.

The flames in his eyes change from fel green to icy blue.

He kneels in front of his new king. His body and will are not his own anymore.

The Lich King unzips his pants.

“I told you I’ll make you mine. Now suck me,” he says while freeing his erection from his pants.

“I would have done that if you just asked kindly, you idiot. You didn’t have to fucking kill me and take away my free will,” Illidan replies.

He proceeds to lick Arthas’ length, and suck at his tip.

“I have so much more planned for you,” says Arthas, moaning softly.

“Fuck, you are so good at this,” he praises Illidan who is trying to get the whole hard dick into his mouth.

He’s kneeling in a pool of his own blood. He can still taste it in his mouth. The whole situation is so macabre that it makes his head spin.

“I want to fuck you again,” moans Arthas.

“Yeah, do whatever you want now, after you violated my damn soul. You sick fuck.”

At least this keeps Illidan’s mind busy, away from thoughts about his body, about how he can’t feel cold anymore, because he is becoming cold; technically, he’s a fresh corpse from which the heat is escaping quickly. Soon, he’ll be as cold as Arthas. He’ll lose his mind if he dwells on the thought.

They move to the bed and Arthas’ touches feel less and less icy cold.

“It had to be like this Illidan. I need you here. I can’t have you escaping,” Arthas explains as he undresses.

 _“I will never forgive you,”_ Illidan whispers. If he could, he would kill Arthas right here and there, but sadly, his body won’t listen to his wishes, in only listens to Arthas’ orders now.

 _“But you will forget,”_ says Arthas. “We will fight the Legion together.”

Ah, the Legion. The Burning Legion that Illidan was fighting against from the start. The same Legion that sent Illidan to Icecrown to battle Arthas, to remove him because he grew too powerful. The same Legion that created the first Lich King. It gets a little complicated.

“I will make you more powerful than they ever did. We will fight them together. It’s our common enemy. Remember what they did to you. You never should have obeyed them. They sent you to your death,” Arthas added.

Illidan remembers the horror of having his eyes burned out by the leader of the Burning Legion, without being given an option to refuse. He remembers the rejection he faced from his people when they found out. All he wanted to do was to save them.

“But you do horrible things Arthas. I shouldn’t be alive. It’s against laws of nature. It’s wrong and twisted.”

“You were twisted before, with demonic energies. They are far from natural.”

“But Arthas… You betrayed your people…”

“So did you,” said Arthas.

Illidan refused to even think that he might be similar to this monster. Instead, he focused on the touches and kisses that covered his body. They felt strange. He barely felt anything. His senses were dulled.

“I… almost can’t feel anything,” he says. Even his voice changed. It’s colder.

“I will make you feel everything you want,” promises Arthas. He knows very well how to bring pleasure to an undead body.

They are both naked now. Pressed against each other. Kissing roughly.

_“Make me forget, Arthas,”_ Illidan says pleadingly.

Arthas moves down and takes Illidan’s dick into his mouth. It quickly hardens. He sucks and licks and wonders why he’s doing something like this. He wanted to take, not give. To claim Illidan’s body and soul. And he already has it. There’s no need to make Illidan enjoy it now. He is his now.

But Illidan’s soft moans are so sweet. Arthas does not get many opportunities to be intimate with anyone, not in this palace of death. He can rape the prisoners, but it gets boring after a while.

This is something different. It’s mutual. It might be forced, but at least they both enjoy it.

“Get on your knees,” Arthas commands, and Illidan obeys.

He moves behind Illidan, and Illidan braces himself against the wall. Arthas lines his dick against Illidan’s tight opening, grabs Illidan’s hips, and thrusts inside. There’s no preparation, but there won’t be too much pain, as undead’s sense of pain is dulled.

Illidan screams. His legs are shaking. Arthas grabs his hair, tugs, tilts his head backwards a bit, baring Illidan’s throat to him. He bites it eagerly, and Illidan loves the rough treatment, the pain is making him feel like he was still alive.

 _“Harder,”_ he moans. Arthas picks up the pace, fucking him faster and deeper while maintaining the grip on his hair. The beautiful black hair turned to a deathly white in his undeath. He still looks beautiful.

“I love you Illidan,” lies Arthas. He knows it’s what Illidan wants to hear. They both know that it isn’t true, but in the heat of the moment, if feels so good to hear it.

“Fuck, Arthas, yes, I love you too, please make me come, please,” Illidan begs.

Arthas complies, gripping Illidan’s dick and stroking it. It only takes a few seconds until Illidan screams from the pleasure and splatters the wall with his come.

Arthas doesn’t take long after that, he feels Illidan tighten around him, and he comes inside him.

They collapse on the bed after that. Illidan feels like a stranger in his own body. He’s not struggling to catch his breath, he’s not sweating, his heart isn’t hammering in his chest. It feels wrong, very wrong. He truly is dead.

Arthas hugs him. “This world will be ours,” he whispers and kisses Illidan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part two with Illidan/Kael'thas here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29518794  
> And also follow me on Twitter if you want to: https://twitter.com/abysswalking_a


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